Things that have to come out
Aceh.
I...can't. I can't watch the tele anymore. I can't look at the bloated bodies of children, their arms outstretched, the faces calm. I can't wonder where the Indonesian army was, why a man had to lie trapped in his house for three days before succumbing to his injuries because everyone was too busy looking for their own family members to help him.
The thought that nothing we do will ever be enough haunts me.
But we have to soldier on.
Mercy is looking for volunteers for 12-day missions to help cook for survivors. Contact them for details, please.
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Everyone and their favourite hat has a blog these days. I've stumbled across blogs only to discover that I know the writer- or worse, it's someone from workplace(!)
And the thing about blogs is that it's a forum for people to put their (innermost) thoughts and emotions online, and more often than not, in the keparat world, those thoughts and emotions do not reflect the persona that people project to their work-mates.
At work, I converse in excellent Manglish, I 'network' like the rest, I make small talk. I've even discovered a predilection for talking about make-up and the best places to get baby formula. I don't reveal my political leanings. I don't rant and rave about the sorry state of the world. I don't even tell people I like to write. (Although the last is simply a survival tactic deployed to avoid being saddled with writing speeches for Big Boss)
Blog-hopping onto a workmate's blog therefore, makes me feel as if I'm surreptitiously taking a peek into someone's private life. Who knew that the quiet guy with the nerdy specs was a hippie, who liked spending his holidays riding a vintage motorbike to Phuket (alas, not this year). Who knew that one of the managers, normally so serious and matter-of-fact could write witty entries about Akademi Fantasia. Who knew that the girl from the department upstairs that I met during those torturously long meetings and wished I knew better was a closet bohemian and could write so well?
What do I do when I see these people? Tell them, "Hey, I read your blog! I like!" and watch them cringe before they scuttle off to shut down the space that they hitherto thought was safe from the prying eyes of someone from work, whom they never thought of revealing themselves to?
Therein lies the dilemma, you see. I want to get to know these people better. But the 'them' that I want to get to know better is not the 'them' that they are in the workplace. Just like I am not 'me' at work.
And so, I suppose, we shall remain hidden kindred spirits, locked in our own little cubicles, occasionally letting our selves out to play through our dancing fingers.
nads went at 11:46